


The Death of the Innocent

by Bttrfly118



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bttrfly118/pseuds/Bttrfly118
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 contestants are chosen from the street at random.  Only for this game, there are no winners.  Each contestant is voted on by society on the order and manner of their death.</p>
<p>Title may change, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

I still remember the day clearly. There was a mist in the air from the rain in competition with the ripeness of the city. The hand over my mouth with the pungent stink of unwashed skin right before the blackness overtook me. I was walking to the bus stop after a full day of work. I was a kindergarten teacher of a lively class. I had been teaching them to write the alphabet that day and had to stay later to catch up on other work. I was taken before I could reach the public bus stop. I normally drove to and from work, but our second vehicle broke down, leaving me to rely on public transportation. It is difficult to think that if I had drove to work that day, my life would not be ending now.  
The cameras are telling me that I now have to tell you about myself. My name is Sarah James. I am a 33 year old from upstate New York. I have a husband named Robert James. He is a museum archivist. We have three-year-old twin girls, Abigail and Elizabeth. We have a good life. We are good people who work with troubled children in the community and help feed the homeless. I don’t deserve this. None of the contestants do.  
If I thought begging for my life for them would work, I would do it. I know how this works though. I know what awaits me. I am part of THE show that is airing on television. The one no one says the name to because we are too ashamed that it exists, but yet we all are guilty of watching. If it is spoken of, it is just mentioned as “THE show.” Our shame lies in killing those contestants that are on it. We vote on the order that the contestants die and the manner of death. Some call it the gladiator fights of our times. At least the gladiators got to fight. I get 36 hours and no chance to say goodbye to those that I love. I get no say in this; I get no closure. You get to be entertained at my murder.


	2. Two

I am brought back to my cell. At least it has a comfortable bed, so there is that. The lights are constantly on and blinding. The cameras are always rolling, hoping to catch a moment that would captivate the world. I feel as if I am in a fishbowl. The world can look in, but I cannot look out. I start pacing, feeling trapped curious how the other contestants are getting on and what background they are from. Feeling my heart break from the anguish that their families and my families must be feeling, I know that I cannot continue that line of thought for long. I know if I think of my family that I will give the cameras what they want and I am determined not to do so. I am stronger than that and my death will mean something. I will show them how wrong this is and fight back. Make my death mean something.  
Flowery words, I know. Deep down, I know nothing will change, but I will still fight back. Every chance I can.   
My mind wanders. How is this even legal? How can they kidnap someone off the street and kill them based on votes for entertainment purposes? Does the law not mean anything to people anymore? Has the world lost it's humanity?   
I am starting to feel outrage. I will take anger over despair any day. Anger is useful. Despair will shut me down. Knowing the camera is on me, I hold my head high and look straight into it. I wish I could say that I had a witty line or retort at this point, but I do not. All I can do is give the audience a look to let them know what I think of them and their entertainment.   
There are no interviews in this for me to tell my side of the story or to try to escape. My life story has been thoroughly researched and vetted and is being broadcast in snippets to the country. Perhaps the world. I have no idea if the facts that are being presented are true. All I know is that if the audience loves you, your death seems to be less painful. I hope they love me. I don’t want to feel pain. I know that I am whining a bit, but to be honest, I could care less. I deserve this and to feel my anger and bitterness a bit longer before I use it against them.


End file.
